The wind howled louder than usual that night, carrying with it the scent of ozone and uncertainty. Kaito Fujimura sat alone in his room, the dull glow of his desk lamp casting long shadows across the cracked screen of his phone. His heart still hadn't stopped racing since he'd watched the video.
The footage was only twenty-six seconds long, but it confirmed everything.
The black earrings.
The shimmer in the air.
And most chilling of all, Arisa Kanzuki turning to face the vent slit with that eerie smile—before the reset.
She had known he was watching. Not during. Before.
His fingers trembled as he paused the frame, zooming in. Her expression was not one of surprise or even anger. It was something far worse.
It was calculated.
And now, the only question was: had she followed him yet?
Kaito locked his bedroom door, stuffed his phone and charger into his backpack, and tried to sleep. He barely managed two hours. By morning, his nerves were threadbare, his stomach in knots, and his instincts screaming one thing—
Don't go to school today.
But he did.
Because part of him needed to know.
By the time he stepped into the front gates of Seiryuu High, everything looked painfully normal. Students in neat uniforms chatted in groups, the air buzzing with Friday gossip and weekend plans. But Kaito felt like he was walking through a stage play, where every smile hid a trapdoor, and the main character—himself—was moments from being dragged off stage.
She found him in the second period.
It wasn't dramatic. She didn't storm in. There was no spotlight or slamming door.
She simply stepped into the classroom during break, her polished shoes making no sound on the linoleum floor. Her signature crescent-moon earrings glinted under the overhead lights. A few students gasped.
"President Kanzuki!"
Arisa offered a gentle smile. "Sorry to interrupt. May I borrow Fujimura-kun for a moment?"
The entire class turned to stare. Some were shocked she knew his name.
Kaito froze.
"Ah... yeah. Okay," he muttered, standing as if in a trance. His feet moved before his brain caught up.
She didn't touch him, didn't threaten him. She simply gestured and turned, her long, midnight-black hair swaying as she walked.
Like a queen summoning her servant.
They didn't go far. The old music room in the east wing—unused, silent, and far from prying eyes. She closed the door behind them, then turned the lock with a soft click.
"I prefer this room," she said, brushing invisible dust from the edge of a piano. "No cameras. And soundproof walls. Isn't that convenient?"
Kaito stood frozen near the window. His legs were stiff, mouth dry. "Why… Why are you doing this?"
Arisa didn't answer right away. She turned to him, eyes cool and unreadable.
"You saw too much. Twice."
"I swear I won't tell anyone," he blurted. "I don't even understand what I saw. Just let me go. Please."
"Unfortunately," she said, voice silky and measured, "that's not how this works."
She stepped forward. Not aggressively. She didn't need to be.
"You're lucky, you know," she continued. "Most people who see what you saw don't remember. That's the beauty of the reset. It's… clean. Efficient. But you—" she narrowed her eyes—"you remembered. Which means you're either cursed or useful."
"Useful?"
She nodded.
"Tell me, Kaito," she said, pronouncing his name slowly, deliberately, "do you believe in fate?"
He swallowed hard. "I don't know."
"I do." Her gaze sharpened. "And I believe that fate doesn't make mistakes. You saw what I didn't want you to see. That means you're part of this now."
"I don't want to be part of anything," he snapped.
She laughed softly. "That doesn't matter. You already are."
A tense silence followed.
Then, she said, "Give me the phone."
Kaito's hand twitched toward his pocket instinctively, but he froze.
"You don't want to do that," he said quietly.
"Oh?"
"If you take it, I'll just tell someone. Post online. Make copies."
Her lips parted in a faint smirk. "You wouldn't."
"You sure?"
The smile vanished.
She moved then—fast. One second she stood across the room, the next her fingers were gripping the edge of his hoodie, yanking him forward with surprising strength. Her face was inches from his.
"I can erase you, Kaito Fujimura," she whispered. "Not kill. Erase. Your friends will forget you. Your teachers will misremember your name. Your online presence? Gone. Your parents—" she paused—"well, I imagine they're not too hard to convince."
His knees buckled slightly, but he didn't fall.
"I'll scream," he said, though it came out more like a croak.
"No one will hear," she said sweetly, stepping back. "Like I said. Soundproof."
He panted, sweat clinging to his brow. "Then why haven't you done it already?"
Arisa paused.
She walked back to the piano, fingers dancing across the dusty keys without pressing them.
"Because I don't want to erase you," she said. "Not yet."
Kaito stared, wary.
She turned to face him again. "I want you to work for me."
His jaw dropped. "What?"
"You'll be my accessory keeper," she said as if it were the most natural title in the world.
"Accessory what?"
She walked toward him slowly, fingers extended. "Every time I remove the crescents and wear the black earrings, someone has to be nearby. Someone who remembers. Someone to ground me."
"That sounds insane."
She shrugged. "And yet you keep coming back."
Kaito flinched.
"You saw the rewind, but you stayed. That means you're tethered now."
"Tethered?" he echoed, stunned.
"To me," she said. "To the earrings. You felt the pull, didn't you? That restless itch. That gnawing curiosity. It's not normal, Fujimura. You're not normal anymore."
He shook his head, backing away. "I'm not doing this."
"You don't have a choice."
"I'll tell someone."
She raised a brow. "You think anyone would believe you? Look at you." Her voice turned venomous. "You're invisible. A ghost in the hallway. You couldn't convince your own shadow to follow you."
He swallowed hard.
She stepped even closer, her voice velvet-soft.
"But under me, you'll be seen. You'll be useful. Protected."
"Used," he corrected bitterly.
"Yes," she said without shame.
He exhaled, trying to think. "And if I refuse?"
She tilted her head. "I'll destroy you. Slowly. With elegance."
A moment passed.
He looked down at his phone, still clenched in his fist.
"I keep the footage," he said finally.
Arisa considered him. "Fine."
"I'm not your servant."
"Call it a partnership," she offered.
"With what goal?"
She looked out the window, her expression unreadable. "To survive what's coming."
Kaito left the music room with trembling steps, the heavy weight of an invisible chain now tethered to his life.
Students stared at him as he walked back to class—not with suspicion, but with curiosity.
"Kanzuki-san talked to you?"
"You know her?"
"Did something happen?"
It had begun.
He was no longer invisible.
But the price of being seen… might be his soul